20 Days with the Not-So-Asgardian
by captainholmes
Summary: Tony is given the tedious task of walking Loki through his rehabilitation on earth, a 20 day scheme that Fury maintains will help Loki see sense. Tony is reluctant, but he soon finds that he and Loki are alike in more ways than one - and what started as a simple help mission turns into so much more. Starki, rated T for swearing.
1. Prologue

**_A/N: My first fic here, yaaa. Please feel free to leave a review (in fact I'd love you to), and I hope that you enjoy the story. I always considered Starki as a weird ship and I never really agreed with it; I usually avoid all ships except the at least semi canon Clintasha and platonic Stark and Stripes. But then I thought not why, but why not? So I give you this weird fic, and enjoy._**

**_20 Days with the Not-So-Asgardian_**

**Prologue**

March, march, march.

The heavy duty boots that each S.H.I.E.L.D guard wore smacked off the metal ground of the compound in time with each other, so much so that even with his intensive hearing Loki was entirely sure that they had it right down to the millisecond. Pitiful, mindless soldiers in their matching silver outfits, their guns poised upwards in the same fashion in their square formation around him - guarding him from the outside world, or guarding the outside world from him? They were not the type of people he feared, but even at this moment in time he couldn't truthfully say that he wasn't a little nervous. He had, of course, been in this position before - but this time was very different. There was no henchmen to come break him out, no escape plan. No tesseract to help him wield power. He could easily get away from these guards, but...what then? There were agents all over the building, one of whom would be able to detain him. And while the demigod wasn't mortal, he wasn't immortal either. This had been proven.

This part of the compound was silent, all the doors they passed closed tightly and not an agent in sight as far as he could see. Everything was a silvery colour, all made of metal, and the lamps overhead pooling light into the floor made it appear a lot more intimidating than Loki had cared to realise. In his old cell back home in Asgard, he was comfortable. He knew that the people there would treat him well, even after all that he had done, because he was one of their people. Or, well, he was supposed to be one of their people. Thor would come visit him from time to time also, and he made sure that his "brother" was well fed and looked after, despite being in punishment. Here, there was no such guarantee. Perhaps they'd keep him here for weeks or months with nothing but himself. And he feared that more than anything - being left to his own devices, left to scour his own head and ask himself all the questions he had been avoiding for so long: why did all this happen? When did I decided it was alright? How did I let cravings for power overshadow everything I've ever learned?

The long corridor went left and they all turned in sync, their boots still clunking in time. It was like a toneless song, one Loki did not care to hear, but he obediently turned the corner with them and then they stopped together. A large metal door greeted him, and lo and behold, it had his name on it in large black handwriting. LOKI LAUFEYSON. He shuddered at the surname. Of course they wouldn't refer to him as an Asgardian anymore, not if Thor had any input on it. They'd did it on purpose so that he would reflect on himself, and he knew that now, because it was exactly what he was doing. If his hands weren't tied tightly behind his back he would have reached forward and tried to touch the writing, to feel if it was real. Of course it was. Everything in Midgard was boring and real as it looked.

Someone from behind pushed him forward and he stumbled towards the door. A few hands went to his wrists and a code was entered, and then he felt the restraint loosening and was instantly relieved when pain shot through his hands as the blood returned to circulate around them. He stepped forward obediently into the room, and before he could even turn around to ask what he was supposed to do the door closed with an echoing bang.

Loki looked around the room, not impressed but also pleasantly surprised. There was one way glass taking up most of one wall, of course, so they could observe him, the walls a lemon colour - but there was also some comforts. The ground he walked on was soft, and in the corner the soft material was piled up higher and he assumed this was a bed. There was a table, a bookshelf for reading. But that was mostly it.

Walking towards the bed slowly he was aware that there were eyes on him from across the glass, monitoring his every move like they would for a long time. But at least, he mused to himself, they actually cared. They weren't just going to throw him in and forget about him. He wondered if they would send anyone in, debating that they probably would. They'd send a petty agent to come talk to him and ask him about his problems or his feelings or some other mindless and irrelevant topic he cared none about. They would find him something to do, they would try to make friends with him. But he wouldn't do so if his life depended on it. He sat down on the edge of the bed and stared through the glass, hoping that on the other side someone would be making direct eye contact with him.

"Hello," he said with a grin. There came no reply.

* * *

Tony Stark rubbed his face tiredly, his hand carelessly making its way across the table until it came in contact with his coffee cup and gripped it tightly, drawing it closer so that he could gulp down the warm liquid. Caffeine was fuel, and he needed fuel right now. Looking over this assignment was no easy task, especially having got no sleep last night, but he didn't complain and simply flicked through the pages, aware of Nick Fury's intense gaze looking over him from above the table.

He was stationed in a conference room at S.H.I.E.L.D, the director having demanded that he come and see him immediately, to which Tony had refused and had ended up personally escorted by those big guys from the floor above. Bastards. And then Fury had handed him this dossier (and he didn't like being handed things, so already he was leaning towards "no"), and asked him if he could handle the assignment. He was surprised when he scanned it to find that it was about Loki, that damned frost giant they'd dealt with not 7 months before. It detailed a specific plan for him to be rehabilitated on the earth. Tony wasn't entirely sure if he despised the idea or thought it was genius.

"Why," he began for the first time since he entered the room with the two burly guys and sat down in a huff, "would you want to rehabilitate him in the first place?" Fury took a moment to examine Tony's expression, the dubious face that he wore almost all the time, and he offered the younger man a shrug.

"If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. We wanted to have an asset like Loki...but why have one like him when you can have the real deal? Thor agreed that it would be for the best. Don't give me that look, Stark. He's not entirely hopeless. He's just a little...broken. We just need you to go and talk to him." Tony considered it for a moment, then snapped the file closed and sat back in his seat.

"Oh, so you're sending me to this broken man because I'm one myself?"

"I didn't say that." _You didn't have to._ After he'd found out that Pepper had been going to DC for other reasons apart from work and he'd broke it off with her, Tony had found himself a little lost. Sure, he still had a few friends - he saw Steve a lot more after the Avengers initiative and Happy stuck by him. But that didn't mean his life wasn't a mess. He worked for S.H.I.E.L.D as a part time asset, clocking in his hours in the hopes he could distract himself. But his drinking got a little out of hand at one point, and for the billionaire it wasn't all plain sailing. _You've been sober for two weeks_, he reminded himself. Fury seemed to sense his, well, fury at the fact he was being used, and edged around the table. "Stark, I assure you it's not that. I just think out of all the people that can talk to Loki, you'd be suited best. We have a 20 day scheme here - that's how long we want you to spend with him. Not continuously, obviously - but to go talk to him and see if you can get to him somehow." Fury could tell Tony was cracking, the self-professed philanthropist finally seeing how it could be an advantage to them and knowing that he was best for the job. He ran a hand through his hair.

"What would I even say?" Fury grinned. So he had finally given in. "I haven't seen the guy since he almost tried to kill me. So what the hell do I do? Hey, I'm Tony, remember you chucked me off a building?" The director laughed as he leaned against the conference table.

"You befriend him and show him he's not alone."

Tony shook his head and offered Fury a wan look. He couldn't believe he was agreeing to this.


	2. Day 1: First Impressions

**_A/N: Wow! The response to the prologue was bigger than I expected. Thank you each and every one of you for the follows and favourites - and may I give a big, BIG thank you to all three reviewers for their positive comments and encouragement. _**

**_20 Days with the Not-So-Asgardian_**

**Day 1: First Impressions**

It had been an hour, Loki guessed, when he next looked up from where he was lying across his bed, his arms resting behind his head, counting the tiles on the ceiling three times which he totalled at 257 and looked to the one way glass. He wasn't sure now if they were still watching him, the sure presence he had felt before not as certain anymore. Maybe they'd gotten bored of watching him, or maybe they were still there, stationing a young worker as a lackey with a cup of coffee and minimum wage to make sure he didn't do anything stupid. He sat up slowly, surveying the room again, making sure that everything was as it was when he entered. Not a thing was out of place. Satisfied, he dropped back down to resume his horizontal position and let out a deep sigh.

"I've been in places worse than this before," he commented to no one in particular, running a hand through his hair as he subconsciously started the tedious counting for a fourth time. "So I appreciate the comforts you provide for me. You midgardians have always been very...welcoming." His sarcasm seemed to scratch an itch because, on the far side of the room, he heard someone tampering with the door. He froze - a friend, or an enemy? He wasn't sure what to call them anymore. So he stayed looking at the ceiling, the neutral mask of no emotion he wore implying that he was not bothered, even bored by his circumstances. He heard the shuffle of feet, then two male voices breaking the ever present silence in the room, unnoticeable until it was gone, and then the door opened. He kept counting, sure he'd missed a few when the noise of the door distracted him. It closed again with a metal clang, but no one moved. He didn't so much as breathe.

"Laufeyson." The voice was somewhat familiar to Loki and he strained to remember whose it belonged to. Not an Asgardian, not that of an ally from Jotunheim or the other realms that he had visited - no, it was someone from earth, he was sure of it. And then it hit him all at once and he thought, how and why would such a person be visiting him, and he kept his cool exterior no longer. He sat up quicker than he should have to be faced with the person he had expected least and probably wanted most, if he'd have thought about it.

Tony shifted from one foot to the other, uncomfortable where he stood. The instability of the soft ground was no reassurance for him as he already felt a little dizzy, after being quickly briefed and shoved into the room with a man who'd tried to kill him on numerous occasions. He took deep breaths to keep anxiety at bay and tried not to think of the past encounters with the adopted Asgardian. Instead he offered him the trademark smoulder look and stepped into the room, looking around it for the first time. "Very cosy. I take it you like it?" Loki scowled at the sudden kindness of the man in front of him. He knew Tony Stark, he knew Iron Man - and he certainly knew that he didn't play well with others. So he was being nice to him for reasons that benefited himself and the agency, not for Loki's benefit. That angered him to an extent. People never seemed to want to be nice to him, even before Thor was banished, even before he had the thoughts of power. He always lived in his brother's shadow and because of that, because he was not used to kindness, he was not naive. He knew that people simply weren't nice to you - they did it for their own benefit. He wouldn't be quick to trust Tony Stark.

At the same time, he mused as he stood up to properly greet the billionaire, he didn't want to cast him away. As fake as his friendship was, he knew that it was all he had and if he didn't accept it they may just punish him further. Taking him in his most vulnerable state - cast out by all who knew him except for Thor, unwanted and unneeded in every realm of the galaxy, he felt like if he even pretended Stark was his friend, then he could get by. Besides, he was an intelligent being in himself. Maybe he'd be able to strike up some decent conversation, and then maybe mess him around a little too to have a good time. He wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon anyway.

"Not bad, Mr Stark," he replied dismissively, putting his hands behind his back and walking over to him. Tony swallowed the lump in his throat but he didn't step back like instinct told him too, because he felt too proud to be put down by such a man. Especially since Fury had advised him to take control of the situation. He was the interviewee, so to speak, and he wasn't to talk to Loki like he was in charge, but instead as if he was an assertive friend. That task wasn't hard in itself because he was an assertive friend, but that didn't mean he wasn't worried about talking to him. After months of wondering why, debating how the battle of New York had turned out the way it had, he wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to know the answers. He didn't want to know about Loki's deepest thoughts if they were going to be dark, didn't want to understand his complex mind. So instead he stepped around him and walked towards the piled up softness that was his bed and plonked down on it.

"I do agree," he said lightly, his eyes falling on the bookshelf. He scanned the volumes lightly - old classics, new classics, things that any bookwork would want to read. He doubted Loki cared much about the goings on of the earth, however, but he didn't say as much. Loki looked over the man sitting on his bed with a confused face. He never would understand him, even if he wanted to. He raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? I thought you'd be used to more luxury." Tony eyed him and grinned.

"I am, but I'm just making conversation." The smile wasn't returned. Unsure what to do, Loki began pacing the soft floor, not wanting to sit down beside Tony. He felt like he was being intruded on, even though this cell had only been his home for over an hour. "So, what brings you here?"

"Only a few hundred S.H.I.E.L.D guards," Loki said dryly. "What brings you here?" Tony panicked for just a second, realising his assertiveness would not be as easy as he'd thought. He'd forgot how sharp and witty the frost giant was as well. They were practically equals, yet complete opposites. Or so he led himself to think. He let himself fall back against the wall, making himself as comfortable as he dared.

"They asked me to talk to you," he admitted, then pointed at Loki. He was wearing his usual attire, but his headpiece was missing, a sign that he was truly on earth and not at home, nothing to help him or give him power. "But first, take off that crap. I can't take you seriously when you look like an extra from a movie." At first, Loki was taken back by the request. But the more he thought about it, the more he realised Tony was right. The guards were all dressed in silver, the agents in jumpsuits, and Tony himself just looked like he'd walked out of a casual coffee shop date. Slowly, he removed the heavy duty jacket, discarding it on the floor, then the gold plated overgarments, letting them follow suit, until he was left in nothing but his trousers and an undershirt for underneath the armour. Tony watched him carefully, intrigued by what he was wearing. By the time he'd taken them off he looked like he'd just sauntered out of one of the workshops, and Tony was satisfied with the transformation, but he was still curious.

"Say..." He tried to make the conversation as natural as possible, despite having basically watched man in front of him strip. "Why do you wear all that crap, anyway? Isn't it a little over the top?" Loki looked down at his clothes on the floor and afforded Tony nothing more than a short laugh that came out as a bark.

"That's a big statement coming from the man who has a skyscraper with his name on it," Loki reminded him, but he didn't avoid the question. "It's the battle armour I wore when I was in Asgard. I see no reason to change my armour just because I've changed realms." Tony's gaze slid over him coolly from where he sat on the bed, and for the first time he suddenly began to understand the man in front of him. In his realm, he was a soldier - the son of the king, yes, but always destined to fight. The roles of the kings were active and they often went to war, so he didn't doubt Loki had too. And he didn't doubt that he'd been discounted as a simple foot soldier simply because his brother was the one in line for the throne and not him.

"Well, I think you'll get a little bit overheated wearing it all in here. And besides, you won't be going to battle anytime soon," Tony said, more of a warning than a reassuring statement. Loki looked up from staring at his boots to meet his gaze, and they held it there for a few seconds without saying anything.

"You really think I'm a monster," Loki stated. It wasn't a question, it was a statement because Loki knew it was true. He circled the room a few times, trying to think of the right words to give the billionaire. He wasn't a monster - he knew he'd done some bad things, but hadn't everyone? And no one else seemed to be reprimanded for the bad things they done, just like the man in front of him. He shook his head in a defeated manner as he finally made his way towards the bed, plopping down beside Tony.

"The thought has crossed my mind," he replied, keeping his eyes straight ahead to stare at the one way glass. "Can you blame me?"

"No," Loki said firmly, angling himself so that he was turned towards Tony slightly, interested in conversation but not eager. "But I think you should take time to learn before you judge." Tony mirrored the angling of his body so that the two men were facing each other, but he didn't offer any other words, just a nod. "So, how does this work?" Tony cracked his hands and sighed, leaning back further on the bed. He was waiting for this.

"Well, I bring you food. I bring you clothes. I bring you to go get a shower. I basically do everything for you," he said with a wan smile. "But only when I'm here, and that'll only be for a few hours a day. I doubt you'll want to be with me for all that long anyway." Loki nodded, unsure whether to thank him because he was sure he was being forced to be there or simply insult him. He did neither and Tony was grateful that he'd simply accepted it, for that would make his job a lot easier than he'd originally thought. For a moment Loki stayed quiet to look over him, and then he thrust his hand towards the little table in the corner of the room.

"What is there for fun in here?" he quizzed, and Tony followed his hand towards the table, taking a moment to wonder why indeed they'd put the table in here. Then his eyes lit up as if he'd remembered something, then dug into his pocket and produced a clear case containing playing cards.

"Coulson gave me these," Tony said with a grin, shaking them and handing them over to Loki. "Careful though, they're mint edition Captain America players from 1941 until 1995. Makes for a good game." Loki despaired at the cards in his hand, wanting to see nothing less than the smug face of the man who had defeated him before on these cards. But with not much else to do, he sighed an exasperated sigh and got up to make his way over to the table. There were no seats, so he sat crosslegged on the floor, and Tony copied.

"Alright, Stark. I'll play along." And for the next hour, he did, passing the cards and passing light conversation both to do with the game and each other. Loki informed Tony of his background to an extent, leaving out everything except for what he knew Tony was already aware of, while Tony did the same. Instead of opening up to each other they tiptoed around each other, each man wary not to be trusting of the other. They must have been talking for a long time then, abandoning the cards after a while, because the door opened briefly and a tray was slid across the floor, but the door didn't close. That was Tony's cue to go. He stood up, stretching his arms and offering the frost giant on the floor an easy grin.

"Pleasure to have you, Mr Stark," Loki said in a voice that suggested anything but pleasure. He stood up, making sure to move slowly as he left Tony to the door so they wouldn't think he was trying to escape. Tony shrugged and stepped over the dinner, which didn't look very appetising, but he didn't say as much.

"Pleasure to be here," he replied in the same tone, and with one last look in the other man's direction he slid in the space between the door and it was hauled shut again. Loki didn't move for a few seconds, still staring at the door where Tony just left, his lips quirking up. So far, he had to admit, he'd had a good first impression of Tony Stark. Then he dropped to the floor and pulled the tray towards him, the smell of the warm food inviting and appealing despite the visuals of the food being the complete opposite. He only hoped the first impression wouldn't change.


End file.
